Three years later
“Should I call the authorities?” I murmur in my sleep. “I sense a violation in progress.” Her gentle touch stirs my cock, and I’m not sure if that’s her finger or her tongue. I peel open an eye and peek beneath the covers. Mmm. It’s her tongue.
Her mouth takes me in and hums along my length. “Maybe,” she mumbles with her mouth full.
Not that it matters, but I glance over at the clock. “It’s five in the morning.”
Her voluptuous curves make their way on top of me. She settles that insatiable wet pussy in position and feathers her lips along mine as she whispers, “Was that a complaint?”
I flip her to her back and spread her legs wide. “Definitely not.” As soon as the throbbing head of my dick connects, I drive home. Her moans grow louder. “They’ll hear you,” I mutter, and latch on to a breast.
I thrust hard, harder, and I swear to God, if she whimpers any louder, I’ll have to smother her with a pillow.
And oh, my fucking God, with her gorgeous ass in the air and her pussy glistening from the night light, I’m about to blow. It takes every ounce of willpower not to smack an ass cheek, but fuck. It’s too risky.
“More,” she begs. Damn her, she knows I can’t resist it when she begs.
I lick her, feed on her, bury my tongue between her legs until her body quivers from the rushed orgasm. She stifles her cries. “You’re not done yet,” I promise. “Turn around,” I demand as low as I can.
“Hurry,” she pants.
“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper to the small of her back.
I’m hard as an obelisk, and my wife is soaked in her own come. One quick fuck, coming up.
I plow into her as she pushes back against me. It’s a rhythm like our heartbeat. It’s us. No matter if we’re slow and steady or lust-filled and rushed, we are tethered. Connected. Somehow, our on-again, off-again one-night stand became love.
I grab her hips and pump hard and fast. Her back arches, and her knees spread wide. I chase my climax until the bed bangs against the wall. “Leo—” She giggles and tries and fails to contain her own avalanche of an orgasm.
“God, baby. Yes!” I come with so much force, I collapse on her. Holy hell, we were loud, but God, was that worth it.
“Ten minutes?” she muses.
I kiss her delicious, plump lips. “I give it five.” I rush through cleaning us up and playfully toss a pajama top at her head as I jump into the bottoms.
The door begins to open, and I slide under the covers and back into bed. I do a light snore for added effect.
Tiptoes creek along the floor until a finger pokes at my nose. I pop open an eye.
Giggles erupt. “Daddy!” my little girl squeals. I see my sweet Bella Trinity has dragged her brother in tow to join the pajama party. As usual, little Mason has Mr. Whiskers clutched in his hand.
In under a minute, they’re on the bed, nestled between us. “Ro sham bo?” my sweet wife offers. Why not? I always let her win.
I ball my hand to a fist, and our fists bob to the beat—rock, paper, scissors. I do rock because I know she’s about pick paper. We kiss. “You always let me win,” she smirks with a pout.
“I do not,” I scoff, kissing that luscious pout and collecting the kids. “Come on. Daddy’s making waffles while we let mommy sleep.”
I scoop them in my arms, and dip both of them upside-down. They giggle wildly as she kisses their heads. “Love you,” she says and rolls back to sleep.
And I love you, Ivy Zamparelli. With all my heart.